


May or May Not Be Pillow Talk

by BlackSamuraiLiterature



Series: Pillow Talk [1]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: Language, M/M, Mature Humor, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSamuraiLiterature/pseuds/BlackSamuraiLiterature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beds in the Underground were small, barely able to fit some of the grown men, and Roland thought it well enough to try and fit two. Roland invited himself into Adil’s bed, but Adil wanted to be comfortable; Adil wanted him to get out. In the end, Roland did not leave the bed. [Length: One-Shot / Chaptered [1/2] (can be read alone or within a set)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	May or May Not Be Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read alone or within a set. [Other sections have yet to be posted]

‘ _What the fuck?_ ’ Adil thought as he woke to another body jostling its way under his bed sheets. The other man had enough sense to take off his glasses and coat, but had the audacity to leave his boots on. Adil could feel the heel of one pressing against his own, but there were not many places Roland’s body was not grazing him. The beds in the Underground were barely able to fit some singular, grown men, and Roland thought it well enough to try and fit two. 

             Adil wondered if Roland realized he was there in the bed. Adil wondered if Roland knew where he was altogether. Adil wondered if Roland forgotten that they gathered in his quarters instead of their normal location, for he forgot fickle things often—like taking off his boots. Most of their files and electronic equipment were stored in Roland’s room, but the two decided to convene at Adil’s since he had yet to distribute the goods from the recent ransack to their fit location. It served a great deal of effort to file through, and Adil heard Roland shuffle through it in short, sporadic shifts long after he had retired for the day.

             Once Roland had settled, Adil furrowed his brow, got up on his forearm, steadied himself with his other hand, and gave him a disgusted glance. It grew sour since his gaze met a mass of hair instead of a face.

             “Roland, what are you doing?” Adil said, “This is my room. This is my bed.” 

             Thoughts about kicking the man hard in his coccyx came to Adil’s mind when he received no response. It would not have been difficult to push him off the bed, Adil considered; Roland was already hanging halfway off of the mattress. Kneeing him vigorously in the small of his back came to mind as well, but Adil did not think that it would get his point across, especially since he knew Roland had been drinking.

             ‘ _Are you drunk?_ ’

             Roland drinking was a detail Adil’s consciousness stopped analyzing and regarded as fact at any given time, but he could not remember if Roland had drank enough. There were instances he saw Roland drink bottle after bottle dry to no ill or ache.

             Shifting around, he began to grunt and curse under his breath for placing his bed flush against the wall. There were two ways for Adil to leave: climb over the footboard or climb over Roland.

             “Fuck me,” he growled under his breath as he slouched upward.

             “… m-m… aybe later…?” came a weak reply.

             Adil regretted his word choice and thinned his lips at the comment.

             ‘ _Definitely drunk._ ’ 

             A scoffing snort came from Adil as he fell back down flat on his back; half hoping he elbowed Roland when doing so. Staring with weighted eyes at the ceiling, Adil retorted with playful sarcasm: “But what if Fred saw that? Kids are crafty.”

             “… I think Fred thought Greg and I were together… after his mother died.”

             Adil’s brow tightened together and his gaze shifted to Roland beside him; he asked with alarm: “Were you and Greg together?”

             It would have been the first he had heard of it if they were. Roland turned his head as if trying to get a glance at Adil, but stopped short, hesitated, and said: “Um, no… Fred was really young then. Probably had no idea what he was thinking.”

             Silence.

             “Are we together?” Adil asked.

             More silence.

             Adil regretted asking. It made the air a little thicker and a lot more awkward, but it did make Roland endow him with the most movement and concentration from the entire night. Roland sat up on the edge of the mattress, forearms resting on his thighs, and looked at Adil from over his shoulder and asked: “Do you want to be together?”

             “In a relationship? Roland, I—”

             Roland was being too coherent to be drunk now, in Adil’s mind. He knew Roland’s drunkenness to be very acute sometimes, but he remembered it to be more melancholic than pensive in those instances. Heaving a sigh, Adil flattened his voice saying: “—I want to sleep. Comfortably. In my bed. That’s what I want. I’m tired. I have no idea what time it is, and God knows what shit we’ll have to deal with tomorrow.”

             “I see…” Roland said, grabbed his glasses, and then pushed himself to his feet.

             “Wait,” Adil said as he grabbed Roland’s wrist to stop him. He sat up with a weary groan, placing himself beside Roland. Rubbing at his eyes, he continued: “I don’t know if you’re drunk or not. Either way, I don’t know if you’re able to get back alone.”

             Adil rose.

             “Take the bed,” Adil said, and once he was done, he scoured through the furniture’s cabinets and drawers. He managed to find a few old blankets and a flattened pillow, dropped them on the floor in disarray, and dropped himself with a dense thud at the end. He turned over on his side, facing away from the bed; Roland took the queue and did likewise. The floor was tough, despite Adil’s efforts to cushion it.

             ‘ _Damn it_ , _I could’ve gone to Roland’s room and just slept on his couch._ ’

             “And take off your boots,” he added.

             There was an airy thump, then another.

             ‘ _Hmph…_ c _ould you imagine if we were together?_ ’ Adil thought. Rolling to the other side, he glimpsed towards the bed and the man sleeping in it, thinking: ‘ _I take care of you enough now… We might as well already be together._ ’

             Then, the bed looked more inviting than it already was.


End file.
